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And now Enzo had gone.
And only the prince remained.
Only after Enzo had left did Fiore realize just how unprepared he was for this interview. Undressed, abed, not even washed, still bearing the sweat of the fever he’d only just broken. He could not make a worse impression on arguably the most important person in Enzo’s life if he’d tried.
The prince held the fate of the whole city in her palms—and more pertinently Fiore’s fate. Whether or not Fiore could remain with Enzo was entirely up to her discretion, for while Enzo might intend to defy his family on Fiore’s behalf, Fiore would be a poor friend indeed to actually allow him to do so.
That said, their discourse in Enzo’s presence seemed to have gone well. She had well earned his respect. He only hoped he hadn’t earned her disdain in turn.
The prince took the chair Enzo had abandoned.
“You’ve heard the rumors of our bloodline,” she began. “I assume you and my brother are close enough for you to know the truth of it is borne out in his flesh.”
Fiore admitted this with a nod.
The prince continued. “Dragons are fabled for their loyalty. But Enzo’s loyalty has at times lain with those who don’t deserve it.”
“Courtesans, you mean.”
The prince’s sharp glance told Fiore that either the anodyne or the fever or both had allowed his thoughts to slip past his lips and become speech.
Fiore held his foolish tongue whilst he waited for the prince to pass punishing judgment on his words.
But her hard gaze softened as it fixed on him. Not by much but by a perceptible degree. Marble rather than granite. Stone nonetheless.
And to his further astonishment, she said, “No. I do not mean courtesans.”
Fiore found the wherewithal to reply, “Oh.”
The prince leaned back. “There are those who would goad my brother into making a challenge on their behalf. Or make their own challenge only to fall back and let him fight their battles for them.”
Even through the anodyne haze, Fiore thought he might know whom she meant.
“Few would take up the sword in his stead,” the prince went on. “Fewer still would dare to fight their own battles when he didn’t stand behind them.” The faintest hint of a smile graced her lips. “And still fewer would succeed.”
Fiore dared not hope she meant to commend him.
“However.” Here the prince gave him a pointed glance. “There is something to be said for discretion when it comes to choosing one’s battles.”
Fiore understood her perfectly.
The prince continued. “When first I heard Enzo had begun paying particular attention to a particular courtesan, I feared his loyalty was again abused. But the events of the past few months have proved you are a far worthier recipient of all he has to offer.”
Fiore didn’t know if he would ever feel worthy of Enzo’s loyalty. He could hardly believe he even held it. Whatever regard Enzo had for him, he resolved to return tenfold.
The prince fixed him with a hard stare. “May I trust you will continue to guard his best interest?”
It mattered not if a prince or a beggar had asked him; the answer would remain the same. Fiore smiled. “With my life.”
~
Enzo paced in the antechamber. No panther had ever stalked circles in its cage with more impatience. When Lucrezia emerged at last, he pounced.
“Is he—?” Enzo began.
“Your Fiore is well and eager to see you again. However,” she said, halting his return to the sickroom with an upraised hand, “I’ve yet to impart what I came here to do.”
“Quickly then,” Enzo snapped.
